


Truth from Stone

by carlosdevil, shikashiba



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Arranged Marriage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Family Drama, M/M, Original House, Politics, Queen in the North, R plus L equals J, Slow Burn, Winterfell, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-30
Updated: 2016-07-19
Packaged: 2018-07-10 06:43:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 11,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6970423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/carlosdevil/pseuds/carlosdevil, https://archiveofourown.org/users/shikashiba/pseuds/shikashiba
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sansa Stark now reigns as Queen in the North, alongside her soon-to-be legitimised half-brother, Jon Snow. </p><p>Most, if not all the houses in the North have pledged their fealty to Sansa Stark, but how will things play along when one specific house goes to pledge their fealty at an opportune time?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Anaris never liked travelling. 

She was her father's first child, the eldest daughter of the Pravost house. The people in her family had jet-black hair and light blue eyes, their skin tones being darker than the rest of the northern houses as they were closer to the sea. Her house, like the Starks, was almost at ruin. Lady Pravost, her mother, died eight years ago during childbirth. Her father, Lord Pravost, was neglectful and cruel to his daughters; however, he doted on his heir, treating him with more affection and amiability than both Anaris and her sister combined. Now her father was dead, slaughtered at the Red Wedding, and her young brother was named Lord Pravost at the age of twelve. 

A twelve year old was in no way fit to be a lord, especially not his spoiled brat of a brother. She and her uncle took control of all the actual business, while the new Lord Pravost would be taught and raised to be a proper lord by Maester Arving.

Several years later, she found herself being forced to travel to Winterfell to discuss terms with the new Queen in the North, Sansa Stark. The road was long, and she had found herself yearning for her home after only several days away from her family's castle. Luckily for her, there was only half a day left of travel before she reached the Queen's castle. 

"Uh...Lady Anaris?" The Knight riding with her spoke. He hadn't said a word to her since they started their trip. 

"Yes, Ser Elras?" She responded, feeling the cold air bite at her skin.

"Will you stay at an inn before we arrive to Winterfell, my lady?"

"No," Anaris let out a quiet laugh, "I'm afraid if I do so I might freeze to death. I doubt an inn in the middle of Wolfswood will be as warm as Winterfell."

"As you wish, my lady."

She let out a quiet sigh and the ride went on for what seemed like ages, silent and cold as the cool breeze of the North came upon her unabatingly. When night began to fall, she sighted a stone wall in the distance. It seemed to be much taller than the walls of Dragonkeep.

"Yes, Lady Anaris." Ser Elras responded, clearing his throat and swallowing dryly. "You do not recognise it?" 

"No, I've never been." Anaris said. "I've only heard of it in tales from visitors to Dragonkeep. That is why I assumed it was Winterfell." 

"I see. Your father never took you with him?" 

"My dear father never took me anywhere, Ser Elras." She said, her tone more taut and cold than she'd wanted it to be. "The only place he'd take me was to his court to meet little lordlings from the South." 

"My apologies, I had not intended to spite you, my lady."

"I took no offense. I suppose I am just too sensitive." A sigh escaped her lips as she eyed the wall before her. A large hole in the wall with what seemed to be metal bars was visible. "Is that a gate?" 

"Yes, my lady. That is the Hunter's Gate. It leads into the courtyard, where hopefully Queen Sansa will be awaiting you." 

"Hopefully? Does she not know of our arrival?" 

"A raven was sent, but whether or not it was received we do not know."

"I...see." Anaris swallowed nervously. "Well, let us hope that the raven was not intercepted."

Multiple voices were audible as they neared the entrance. The gate rolled up after a short wait and she rode in, Ser Elras trailing behind her. She felt eyes on her as she reached the courtyard and unmounted her steed. Seeing that Queen Sansa was not present, she turned to Ser Elras.

"She's not here! She didn't get the raven...What am I supposed to tell her?" Anaris whispered in a panic. 

"Deciding that is your job, not mine, my lady." 

She let out a quiet groan, before seeing that someone was walking towards her and regaining her composure. 

"Lady Anaris." An unfamiliar voice called out to her. 

"Queen Sansa..." She took a moment to examine who she was speaking to, and a light pink rose to her cheeks as she realised that it was a man with shoulder length curly black hair and pale skin. "You're not Queen Sansa. S-Sorry." Ser Elras held back a chuckle. 

"My name is Jon Snow." The stranger spoke, his brown eyes fixated on her. "I'm here to escort you to her."

"Oh...My apologies." She bowed. "I am assuming this means she got my raven. Do I take my knight with me?" 

"There'll be no need for that, my lady. You're safe here." Jon Snow said, glancing over at the knight.

"Alright." She nodded curtly and smiled. "Please, just call me Anaris. All these formalities confuse me...I am not very used to them."

Ser Elras gave her a concerned look, and she shook her head in response. The Starks were honourable and trustworthy, or so she had heard. She met Eddard Stark when she was younger, and he seemed very noble. All that she could hope for now is that Sansa Stark continued with her house's legacy. 

Winterfell was very different from Dragonkeep. It seemed gray, and cold, and dull. Not that she'd expect any different, especially after the numerous conflicts that had taken place in this castle alone. The castle itself made her feel lonelier than ever, and the broody nature of Jon Snow surely didn't help. 

All her thinking had led her to trail behind Jon, and she picked up her pace, walking next to him. "Are you Eddard Stark's son?" Anaris asked, attempting to start a conversation.

"I'm his bastard." Jon responded with a flat tone of voice.

His response seemed a bit uninterested. Did she bore him? "Oh. My father had a lot of children with women...other than my mother. I have more half-siblings than actual siblings. Eddard wasn't like my father though..." She swallowed dryly, thinking of something else to say. Shifted the conversation onto her personal life wasn't the best idea. "Were you raised in Winterfell?" Talking to a bastard was difficult, she thought. Speaking with people of low class was not something that maesters could teach. 

"I was. I didn't know your house had any bastards." He looked at her with steady eyes, and she looked away quickly, a light pink rising to her cheeks in embarrassment. 

"We do. Two are older than I am, I think. I met them once. You're lucky to be raised in Winterfell. When I was really young, and my mother had died, I had begged Ser Elras to take me to Winterfell." Anaris let out a laugh. "Dragonkeep was a bit boring. I'd never travelled until now. Winterfell seemed like a paradise back then. Now, I'm not so sure." 

"You don't like Winterfell?" 

"No, no. It's not that. It's just...not what I expected." She smiled faintly.

"I thought the same way about the Wall, when I first arrived..." Jon stopped talking as a door was already in front of them, making them cut their conversation short, and making Anaris realise that their walk was much shorter than she had anticipated. "We're here. You should probably get ready." He said, his tone stoic.

She was perplexed for a moment, trying to understand what Jon meant when he brought up the wall; but, she shook it off, nodded, and straightened out her dress, feeling herself tensing up in anxiety. "Will you be walking in with me?"

Jon nodded and opened the door, holding it open as Anaris walked in. He followed after her, making sure to close the door.

She looked around, examining her surroundings as quickly as she could. The room she was in was as dull and as boring as the rest of the castle, adorned with the Stark's sigil and some intricate furniture along with some seats and a table on an elevated surface. This must've been the Great Hall. In one of the seats of the elevated surface, a woman sat. She assumed that it was Sansa Stark. Her hair was red and long, blending in with the bronze metallic crown that rested on her head. There were some other seats along the walls, but she assumed it would be rude to sit in front of the Queen in the North without her permission.

"Lady Anaris Pravost. I presume your trip has fared you well?" The Queen asked, her voice powerful and overwhelming.

Anaris kneeled quickly. "Yes, your Grace. It has been long and tiring, but I am here now." 

"Good." Sansa responded. "Now stand. We have business to discuss."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i realised i really didn't have a character description for anaris once i had finished writing the chapter, so because i really dont see a way to fit it in without ruining the chapter i'm just going to leave some links to images here. 
> 
> http://imgur.com/a/yR31Q


	2. Chapter 2

The mood in the Great Hall was incredibly tense. Anaris could feel icy blue eyes on her as she stood up on shaky legs, lifting her gaze up to the Queen slowly.

"What are you doing here?" Sansa asked, her tone more bitter and harsh than Anaris had expected. 

She let out a cough, slightly taken aback by the Queen's question. "Well, I had assumed you received the raven, I—" 

"I did receive the raven, Lady Pravost. I want to know why you have walked into my hall after you and your house failed to support us in our war against the Lannisters." 

Anaris felt her face warm up as she got frustrated, her eyes watering slightly as she cleared her throat. "We did not have an army to spare in assistance, your Grace. My Father took almost all of our soldiers to help your brother, Robb Stark, during the War of the Five Kings. They were all slaughtered, along with my father, at the Red Wedding. On top of that, the few we had at Dragonkeep were being used to keep the Ironborn at bay. Our house was in shambles, and as much as I had begged to be able to assist, we simply could not, due to the circumstances. We have been loyal to your family for many years, your Grace. I hope you can find it within you to forgive us." 

Silence engulfed the room after she'd spoken, while Queen Sansa looked at her with observant eyes. She felt the weight of her family's expectations, of her ancestors legacy, and of the future of her lineage pressing down upon her as she patiently waited for someone to speak. More than ever, she craved for the comfort of her home. 

"Jon." Sansa said, shifting her gaze towards him. "Leave us to speak. Alone." 

Anaris didn't look over, she stayed still as if she were a statue made of flesh and stone. Hushed footsteps and the opening and shutting of a door was audible, and soon only she and the Queen remained in the room. Silence went on for what seemed like hours, before Sansa spoke once more.

"Your father may have been loyal, but how am I to know that you are loyal under Lord Devron Pravost?" 

"Your Grace, my brother is not old enough to rule our house properly. My uncle and I are currently taking care of everything for him. This is why I'm here. House Pravost is willing to do anything to prove our loyalty." 

"Anything?" The queen said hesitantly. "Well, I suppose I could think of something..." There was a pause. "One of your family members will marry one of my brothers. I will choose who it will be. If you truly wish to pledge your loyalty to me, someone of House Pravost must be betrothed to someone of house Stark. Your house must also send us...a quarter of your annual supply of mined stone. Indefinitely."

Anaris swallowed dryly, the realisation of what the Queen was truly asking of her shocking her. Her house had more than enough mined stone to spare, but it was the marriage part that had made her feel distraught. 

She was the eldest woman in her house, and her sister had not even bled. She could not marry her off for fear of what may come. "It shall be done." She said, her tone of voice solemn. 

"Good. Send one of my ravens to Dragonkeep. I will be expecting a response as soon as possible." 

She bowed and quickly rushed out of the Great Hall, holding back tears. Since she was a little girl, she'd dreamed of falling in love with a powerful lord and getting married; now, the option had been stripped away from her. Adulthood was rushing towards her. Marriage. Parenthood. Things that seemed so far away were coming quicker than she had expected, and she'd felt idiotic for not anticipating it.

Ser Elras spotted Anaris walking towards the courtyard and approached her, failing to notice her sour mood. "My lady, we have been provided a place to stay in the Guest House. If you are tired, I recommend you get some rest there." She nodded, before mumbling something incoherent, even to her, and headed towards what she thought to be the godswood. Maester Arving had told her that the Godswood in Winterfell was much larger than the ones she'd seen, but she never believed him. The gate creaked loudly as she entered and looked around at the seemingly endless sea of trees. 

The breeze was pleasant, although colder than what she was used to. Green leaves danced with the wind and the scent of forest cleared her mind. She exhaled slowly, closing her eyes and enjoying the tranquility of the area, before hearing a growl from behind her. 

It was some type of animal, it had to be. It sounded like a dog or perhaps a hound. Her body shook slightly as she turned around, fear crashing into her like a wave as she saw a strange, white wolf with bright red eyes, larger than any other wolf she'd seen. It inched towards her, and she found herself not being able to move. 

"Hey there, wolf...You don't need to attack me." She whimpered, hoping it would get the animal to leave her alone.

"Ghost." A familiar voice called out from within the trees, and the wolf turned its head, "Come here." 

Within an instant, the wolf, which she assumed was called Ghost, walked away from her. She let out a sigh of relief and looked to see who it was that had spoken. 

"Anaris." The voice said, walking out of the woods and towards her. "I see you met my direwolf, Ghost. Sorry if he scared you." 

"Jon." She bowed in greeting. "Ghost, Hm? I thought there haven't been any Direwolves spotted south of the Wall in centuries. He is...quite the charmer, isn't he?" She glanced over at Ghost. "Growling at someone isn't a very good way to greet them, furball." 

Ghost growled at her once more and she took a step back. "You trained him how to...not attack, right?" 

"He'll only attack if I tell him to." Jon said, getting down at Ghost's level and petting him behind the ears. "I found him when he was a pup. His mother had died and he'd strayed away from his siblings."

"Well, you better not tell him to attack. I can barely fight a man, let alone a big wolf." She looked over at the direwolf. "You raised him, then? Or...well...I suppose the correct word would be trained."

"I did." There was a silence, and Anaris found herself wanting to leave. She never trusted strangers, especially not when they had direwolves. "Why are you here, in the godswood?" 

"Well...Um..." She paused, wondering what she would say. "I just needed to go somewhere a bit calm. This trip has been overwhelming, to say the least, and my Uncle would usually do all the talking with greater houses and the like. It's harder than I thought. Talking to people in general is hard, actually." 

"I thought all nobles were taught how to talk to people." 

"I was taught how to speak with others, but I only spoke with the few people that were around me, and most of them were my family." She let out a sigh. Not only did she not have the will to speak with others at the moment, but she found it especially difficult to communicate with Jon. He was morose, or at least he came off as that. Although she didn't really blame him, he was a bastard, after all. He'd mentioned being at the Wall earlier. Was he part of the Night's Watch?

"May I ask a question?" She said, her tone showing more of a lack of confidence than she'd like others to see.

"Go ahead." 

"Well...Before I talked to Queen Sansa you mentioned being at the Wall. Why were you there?" 

Jon was quiet. Perhaps she'd probed too far into his personal life.

"I was Lord Commander for a bit." He answered. 

"My uncle was in the Night's Watch. I won't ask why you said 'was Lord Commander', or why you're here now, but I think risking your life to protect the North is quite honourable. It's unlikely that you were sent there for committing a crime, but even if you were it's impressive that you became Lord Commander. It seems like it's something difficult to accomplish. Perhaps you've met my uncle while you served, his name is Darron."

"I don't remember anyone by that name." 

"Oh? That's a shame. He hadn't written home in...well, since the Ironborn attacked during the War of the Five Kings. It was a bit foolish for me to expect you to know him. Knowing how it is out there, he might have died." 

Jon was quiet and she sighed. "I'm going to retire to the room I've been given. I have some things to do. Farewell, Jon Snow."

Before Jon could even speak, she walked out of the Godswood, quickly heading to the Courtyard. At this point, she was only speaking to him to be polite, and to ask about things that had piqued her interest. He was a stranger, but a stranger who was related to the Queen. Familiarising herself with the Starks seemed to be a necessity at this point, and it was not an enjoyable one.

"Lady Anaris." A voice called out, and she looked around, looking for who spoke her name.

"Ser Elras." A faint smile formed on her face.

"There was a caged raven delivered for your use in the Guest House. Will you be sending it to Dragonkeep?"

Anaris nodded. "It's about the deal I've struck with the Queen. Can you lead me to the Guest House? I'd like to rest."

"Of course, my lady." Ser Elras said, and he began walking through the Courtyard, towards the Guest House. Anaris quickly followed behind him, looking around in an attempt to figure out the layout of Winterfell. They approached a building, made out of the same stone as the rest of the castle and right against the the tall stone wall surrounding the courtyard, except it was a bit small compared to the other edifices. Ser Elras went to the door on the building and pulled out a key, using it to unlock the door. He hold it open for Anaris and she walked in, hearing the door close a couple of moments afterwards.

The building was quite plain. Furniture was sparse and there weren't any decorations. 

"It seems Queen Sansa isn't much of a stylist." She said with a chuckle.

"Neither were the Boltons. The original Guest House was damaged in the Sack of Winterfell." 

"I didn't know Winterfell was sacked. That explains how dull the castle looks." She walked over to one of the doors and pushed it open; it was a bedroom, as there was a bed against one of the walls and a desk with what seemed to be the raven she would be using. "Will I be sleeping in here?" She asked. 

Ser Elras nodded, and she let out a sigh of relief. "I can use the rest." She said as she walked into the room. "Let me know if someone is calling for me." 

Anaris closed the door and sat down at the desk, looking down at the writing set that had been provided for her, along with some red solidified wax. She thought long and hard about how she would tell her family about what would happen, and then picked up the long black feather, dipped it in ink, and began to write.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well, i'm pretty sure i have carpal tunnel syndrome in both of my hands, so typing is really painful. 
> 
> hopefully it doesn't slow down my posting! i'll also have more free time now, so i might be able write more.


	3. Chapter 3

Dragonkeep's halls were cold and sparsely lit, the faint scent of forest seeping in through the porous stone walls. It was late, a little too late for Devron's taste. One of the servants had interrupted his beauty sleep because of a supposedly 'urgent raven' that had arrived for him. 

He had reached the door leading into the Great Hall, and groaned as he saw that his little sister was waiting outside. 

Her black long hair was in braids, as always, and her tan complexion being lit up by the torch near her, showing the concerned expression on her face. She was in her nightgown, made of light blue silk. 

"Why are you here, Shela? Little girls like you should be asleep." Devron asked, his tone spiteful and rancorous.

"Uncle called me. He's gotten news from Anaris, and I wasn't asleep." 

"Of course you weren't, you were playing around with the little imps in your room. Walk on in, now. I'm not going in first. I shouldn't have to take care of Anaris' problems."

Shela groaned and shook her head. "You should be leading me in! You're the lord here!" She yelled, opening the door and shoving her brother inside. Devron landed on the floor with a thump, and his sister gleefully skipped around him and sat down at the discussion table. 

"Damn you, Shela! You're a little brat." He said as he stood up, walking to the mirror in the room and examining himself to see that nothing got damaged. As always, he looked strikingly handsome. His sister's most inconsiderate shove had not messed up the precise styling of his perfectly curled raven hair, or caused any damage to his flawless pale countenance. His brown clothes hadn't been wrinkled or ripped. A sigh of relief escaped his lips. 

"Devron. Sit down. I didn't call you here for you to yell at your sister and admire yourself in a mirror." His uncle said, his voice echoing through the hall. 

Devron rolled his eyes and went to the discussion table, sitting down. His Uncle looked like he'd just woken up. His long black hair was tangled, and there were bags underneath his brown eyes. "Fine. This better not be a waste of my time. One of the servants mentioned something about a raven. What's it say, then?" 

Maester Arving walked over to the discussion table, coming from some dark corner in the hall, and put down a letter, rolled up with a string wrapped around it. Despite everyone else not being dressed, the Maester was in his black robes, with his chains around his neck. He seemed to be more energised that anyone else, despite his old age.

"You have not opened it yet?" Devron asked, looking down at the letter but not touching it. 

His uncle shook his head and Devron grabbed the letter, untying the string and rolling it up. He snorted in amusement as his eyes skimmed the letter.

_My dearest family,_

_I have arrived at Winterfell and all is well. I've been treated kindly, and we are about to invoke guest right, as we are going to share bread and salt shortly. I have also agreed on terms with the Queen in the North. Her Highness has decided that she will overlook the fact that we neglected to assist her in her war against both the Boltons and the 'Baratheons' and consider us as part of her kingdom. To thank her for her graciousness, we are required to send her half of our annual supply of mined stone, which I presume will not be a problem. Saying we have a surplus of stone is being quite modest. We are also required to betrothe someone from our house to one of Her Highness' brothers. Sweet Shela is too young, she has not even flowered. I will take on the responsibility. Eighteen of my namedays have passed, and I will not let my sister get married at such a young age. Uncle, I beg of you to come to Winterfell with haste. If I am to be wed, I'd like one of my kinsmen to be at the wedding. Please send a response stating that you agree to the terms as quickly as possible. She is waiting._

The letter was stamped with the Pravost sigil; a dying tree with a strange symbol intertwining with the branches. 

"Well, Anaris was useful for once." The young lord said, a grin forming on his face as he put the letter down. "She struck a deal with the 'Queen in the North'. We only have to give the Queen half of our stone. I think she'll be staying in Winterfell as well. Two birds taken down with one stone.." 

He was glad Anaris was gone from his life. After all, she'd constantly nagged at him, claiming that their father was 'too lenient' and let him do as he wished; deep down, he couldn't help but worry for her. They didn't get along, but Anaris was always a bit delicate, at least she was compared to him. Winterfell was a new environment; he had an ominous feeling about the arrangement. 

"Anaris won't be coming back?" Shela asked, her glassy blue eyes welling up with tears. The Maester quickly helped her up whispered some words in her ear, and she hurried out of the Great Hall, slamming the door behind her. 

"What do you mean, she's staying in Winterfell?" His uncle asked, seemingly ignoring his sister's poignant exit and grabbing the letter. He read over it and his face got more solemn that it was before. "She's getting married to a Stark. I know what they're doing. Sansa Stark still doesn't trust us." 

"What do you mean, she doesn't trust us? What have we done to deem us untrustworthy?"

"We remained neutral while she retook Winterfell and the rest of the North."

"Neutral? But I thought we supported the—"

"Quiet, boy. We were neutral. We didn't send men to assist either side. We had our own battles to fight. The only reason this marriage is taking place is to make sure that our house does not turn traitor. You are going to write a letter to the Queen saying that you, Devron Pravost, Lord of Dragonkeep, agree to the terms that have been offered. Maester Arving, do you have the writing supplies?" 

Devron felt himself losing his temper. His Uncle was overstepping his boundaries. "What if I don't want to agree to this, Uncle? I am the lord here, not you." 

"If you don't do what I say, you'll lead our house to destruction. Don't be foolish." His Uncle said, his tone of voice menacing and authoritative. Devron rolled his eyes, looking at the door as two servants walked in. They placed a sheet of paper, wax, a stamp, a quill, and an inkwell in front of him and hurried back out of the Great Hall. 

"Are you really going to force me to do this?" He asked, looking down at the supplies in front of him. "We could always side with the Ironborn. We don't need to side with the Starks." 

"Shut up and write, Devon. We are not discussing this any longer."

"Fine. You are going to regret this one day, dear Uncle." 

In the end, he wrote a long and embellished letter stating that his house agreed to their terms and pledged loyalty to the Starks and the Queen in the North. He let the ink dry before he signed and stamped the letter, and handed it over to his Uncle. 

"Is this good enough, Uncle Darnis?" He asked, vexation seeping from his disconcerted tone of voice. 

His Uncle nodded, before picking up the quill himself and writing something. 

"What are you doing? Why are you writing?" Devron looked over at the Maester and then back at his Uncle. "I demand to know what you have written." 

"Calm down. I have only added that you and your sister are going to Winterfell. If anyone will have to bend the knee, it will be you. Now, sign and stamp the letter. Use the candle to melt the wax once you've signed."

"What?!" Devron darted up, pushing the chair away from him. "I am not going to Winterfell! I am Lord and I have decided that I am staying here!"

"Devron. Sit down. Now. If you wish to be Lord of Dragonkeep so badly, you cannot act like a boy. Do as I say."

The Maester slowly walked over to his Uncle, looking over at Devron with wise and caring eyes. "Young Lord, listen to your uncle. Going to Winterfell would most likely secure this allegiance. Not showing up to a wedding with a lady of your house would be disrespectful, as well." Maester Arving said, causing Devron to sigh in defeat.

"Fine." He mumbled, grabbing the letter and signing it. He grabbed the wax and heated it up over the candle nearby. Once the wax had melted, he poured it on a vacant spot on the letter and stamped it with his house's sigil. "Is that all? May I go now?" 

The Maester nodded and he got up. "I suppose I'll start packing, then. Tell my sister to start packing, Uncle. I'd rather not have the see the little gremlin again today.”

And so Devron stormed out, leaving the two men to discuss among themselves. 

He was infuriated. This wasn't his issue, yet he was being dragged into it. When he arrived Winterfell, he would have a word or two for Anaris. 

To his dismay, when he arrived at his room, a servant seemed to be doing his packing for him. 

“I can pack for myself.” He said in what was his attempt of a lordly voice. 

“Sorry, m'lord. I'll leave right away.” The servant replied in a hushed voice, and then walked out of his room A groan escaped his lips as he looked at the already packed clothes with an expression of disgust. 

“This is no good. If I am going to be seen by a queen, I need to look decent.” He murmured to himself. The clothes the servant had packed were in ugly colours; hues of orange and brown. He switched them out for his nice outfits, consisting of shades of blue with silver and gold lining, along with his fur coat, as it was colder in Winterfell. 

Once he was satisfied with what he'd prepared, he plopped himself back down onto his bed and closed his eyes, wanting to get some sleep before the restless nights to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry if this chapter is a bit weak. i live near the orlando massacre that happened recently, and it hit me really hard, so i spent a day and a half without writing. 
> 
> i tried to spice it up by making the setting be dragonkeep for this chapter. if it isn't too well recieved, i won't do it again. please feel free to leave any opinions or critiques. thanks for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

Snow covered the ground like a pure white blanket, and the cold breeze nipped at Sansa's skin as she traversed through the courtyard. She had broken her fast with her brothers a couple of hours earlier; but now she had started to crave a sort of food, and hoped that the castle was stocked with citrus. The doors of the kitchen creaked loudly as she opened them and walked in, inhaling deeply as the aromatic scent of food pleased her senses. The servants seemed to be busy at work, and had not noticed her entrance. She cleared her throat loudly, calling the workers' attention and causing them to stop. 

"Good morning." Sansa said, looking around. "Do we have any lemons?" 

"Only a couple, your Grace." A meek voice said from somewhere she could not distinguish. 

"Good." A smile crept upon her lips. "I'd like lemon cakes to be made for this evening. As many as possible...and take extra care in making them. We won't have lemons for a while."

"It'll be done, your Grace." 

Sansa nodded, before turning around and walking back outside. It would be a pleasant surprise for her brothers, and a nice treat for herself. After all, winter was coming, and she might as well enjoy herself before the harsh time that was approaching ever so quickly. 

The courtyard was lively as ever, as preparations were being made for winter, but her older brother seemed to be out of sight. Rickon was catching up on his studies with the Maester, so she'd expected not to see him, but Jon wasn't doing anything from what she was told. She scanned the crowd meticulously, looking from person to person but to no avail. A feeling of dread crept upon her. She knew her fears were most probably irrational, but she couldn't stop worrying that Jon might have left Winterfell or got hurt.

A voice called out to her from behind, and she jumped slightly, feeling her muscles tense up as the colour drained from her face. She felt her body break out in cold sweat as she turned around slowly, and saw that it was only a servant. 

"Yes?" She asked, a hint of irritation seeping from her tone of voice.

The servant flinched slightly. "The Maester sent me, your Grace. A raven has arrived for you." 

Sansa nodded. "Does he wish for me to see him about it?" 

"Yes, your Grace."

"Tell him I'll do it when I can." She paused momentarily. "I haven't seen my brother, Jon, out here. If you see him, send him to my bedchambers." 

The servant nodded and she walked off, heading back to the Great Keep. The Maester was a bit of a restless man; even if Sansa didn't go to him, he would seek her out one way or another. Going over to the Maester's Turret would be a wasted effort. She ruled Winterfell and the rest of the North; people should be doing things for her, not the opposite. 

Sansa rushed through the empty halls, passing door by door and climbing staircase by staircase until she finally found the door that belonged to her. She opened the door, walking into the room and letting the door close behind her. Warm, yellow light shone, illuminating the room; the fireplace was still lit from last night and heavy gray drapes blocked off light entering from the window. This was the only place where she could feel relaxed, and yet the very room bore horrible memories. 

She walked over to the desk, looking at the letter she had written with a feeling of contentment. If things went according to plan, Jon would like what she had for him. Of course, even if he didn't, he'd have no choice but to accept it. She'd do anything to keep her family safe, especially after she'd gotten her home back. 

A knock at the door took her out of her trance, causing her breath to hitch. How long had she been standing there, lost in thought? She went over to the door and opened it. As she had hoped for, it was her brother and not the Maester. 

"Jon. You're here. Did you get the message from the servant?" Sansa said, standing in the doorway.

"No, the Maester sent me with this letter for you. What message?" 

"Oh. Well, it doesn't matter now. Come on in, I need to talk about something with you." She stepped back, letting Jon walk in and shutting the door.

He mumbled something as he examined the room and pushed the drapes aside, letting natural light enter the room. Sansa closed her eyes for a moment. She'd gotten so used to the darkness in her bedchambers that the light was a bit blinding. Once she'd regained her vision, she saw that Jon had his gaze focused on her. He cleared his throat. "What do you need to talk about?" 

"Well...It's about our family." 

"Did something happen?" Jon asked, his expression changing from being stoic to slightly surprised. 

"No, nothing of the sort. It's regarding you, actually." Sansa smiled, picking up the letter she had written from her desk and reading over it once more.

_From this day until your last day,_  
_you are Jon Stark._  
_Brother of Sansa Stark,_  
_Queen in the North._

"What is it?" Jon asked, a feeling of anticipation noticeable from his tone of voice. 

"Here." Sansa handed him the letter and watched as his expression shifted dramatically.

"Sansa, I...I don't know what to say."

"You deserve this, Jon. You were always a Stark, even if you didn't have the official title."

"What about Rickon and Bran? Won't this get in the way of their inheritance?"

Sansa sighed. "No. Don't worry about it, alright? Rickon is...different, and Bran is probably dead."

"So...That's it? I'm Lord Jon Stark now?"

"As well as heir to Winterfell. We need to protect each other, Jon. We need to protect our family and our home. That's all that matters."

"I never thought this would happen. When I was younger I'd always wish that Father would ask Robert Baratheon to make me a Stark." Jon let out a quiet chuckle. "Thank you, Sansa. You do me great honour." 

"Now, what letter did the Maester send you with?"

"This one. He didn't say where it was from." Jon held out the letter and Sansa took it, examining it. 

The wax seal bore the sigil of House Pravost. She opened the letter and skimmed through it. "Well, now I suppose I have to prepare the castle for more visitors. As if everyone wasn't hard at work already." 

"Who's visiting?" Jon asked, looking at the letter in Sansa's hand.

"You've met the Pravost girl, have you not? The rest of her family in Dragonkeep is coming. I presume it's for the wedding."

"Wedding? What wedding?"

"Oh, I forgot to tell you." She paused for a moment. She hadn't really thought this out. "Someone's getting married." 

Jon raised his brow. "Who?"

"I haven't decided yet, but it's between our House and House Pravost. I know that I'm not getting married, and based on what I've heard, the eldest girl is likely to be the bride."

"You haven't decided yet? You arranged this and you didn't care to tell either me or Rickon?"

"Jon." Sansa felt herself getting angry. She did not appreciate her leadership and decision-making being question, especially if it's by her own brother. It made her feel like a naïve little girl. "We are not going to discuss this now." 

"Rickon is only eleven, Sansa. You were planning it to be me, weren't you? Is that why you legitimised me?"

"No." She grit her teeth, trying her hardest to remain her calm composure. "Look, I have work to do. Unless you have something else to talk about, I'd recommend you go back to whatever you were doing before." 

She watched as her brother walked out and she sat down on her bed. That didn't go according to plan. She felt as helpless as she had been for the last couple of years. All she wanted to do was keep what was left of her family safe, and perhaps she was letting it get to her head. 

Napping in the middle of the day probably wasn't the best decision, but she would do it anyways. Her bed's warm embrace gave her comfort, so much so that she didn't even block off the light from the window. She lied down, letting her body loosen up, and closed her eyes 

A knock at the door woke her up, and she sat up, looking at the window. Shades of orange and red lit up the sky. Her nap had taken much longer than she'd expected. Someone probably came to call her down for supper. At least the nap was pleasant; it was dreamless and she woke up feeling energised. She went over to the mirror, fixed herself up, and headed out of her room. 

The walk to the Great Hall was short and quiet, the sounds of the courtyard being muffled by the walls surrounding her. She entered the Hall and saw that her brothers had already started eating.

"You're late." Rickon said, looking down at his place. 

"I know. I'm sorry." Sansa said, sitting down and looking at the food that was served. There was a platter in the center of the table, with over a dozen lemon cakes on it for the taking. She smiled and sat down, placing a couple of lemon cakes on her plate and getting ready to eat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is a bit shorter than the last two, mostly because it was a bit more difficult to write. i'm not sure why, it might be because it was a bit difficult for me to get into sansa's character than i thought it would be. i'm a bit iffy on it, but oh well. there's no point in not trying. hope you guys enjoyed this chapter!


	5. Chapter 5

Every morning seemed to get more and more frigid at Winterfell. Perhaps it was just her nerves getting to her, but Anaris found it increasingly difficult to leave the comfort of her bed every morning. She'd been in the castle for at least a week at this point, and no one had informed her on whether or not anyone had received a raven from her home. 

A sigh escaped from her lips as she looked out the window, the view of the Godswood covered in white almost mesmerised her. Voices were audible from another part of the Guest House; she couldn't tell who it was that was speaking, but she'd rather not get caught up in whatever it was that was going on. It probably wasn't anything important, either way. 

As she stared at her reflection in the small, dirty mirror that was placed in her room, she realised she had begun to look rather sickly. Bags were forming underneath her cerulean eyes, and her skin tone was a bit paler than usual. 

Anaris quickly put on her fur cloak, which was embellished with a small engraving of her houses sigil into the leather that held the cloak on her, and walked out of the Guest House, not wanting Ser Elras to see her in her current state. The courtyard was loud and almost a bit crowded. Some people were working in the overwhelming cold, which baffled her. 

Usually, she would go to the Kitchen and ask for something to eat, but today she seemed to have lost her appetite. Anaris knew the best thing to do at the moment was to eat, especially since she didn't feel very fresh, but she just couldn't stomach food at the moment. Instead, she headed into the Godswood. She'd never actually seen the Heart Tree in Winterfell. Obviously, it would look like every other Heart Tree in Westeros, but it still piqued her curiosity. 

Despite the size of the Godswood itself, the walk to the heart tree didn't take very long. She sat down on a stone by the tree, feeling a strange calmness as she looked at the face carved into the trunk. In Dragonkeep she almost never visited the Godswood, as she rarely felt a need to; here, it was a sort of escape for her. The only person she'd come across in the Godswood was Jon when he was with his direwolf, and so she could relax a bit. 

Despite what she thought the first day she'd arrived, Jon's broody presence was sort of comforting. She'd tried to talk to Rickon Stark, but he didn't seem like much for conversation. She was also seven years older than him, so it was kind of awkward for her. Sansa Stark terrified her, for some reason. She hadn't seen her at all since their first meeting. Jon was really the only person she was talking to, although their conversations didn't last very long. 

A familiar patter became audible, and she turned around, seeing bright red eyes and white fur that almost seemed to blend in with the snow seamlessly. 

"Good morning, Ghost." Anaris said with a smile, watching as Ghost walked towards her and sat down. He stared at her with an expectant expression. "Sorry. I don't have anything to give you. I wasn't very hungry, so I didn't get any food." 

The direwolf continued staring at her and she let out a laugh, petting his head softly. "Look at me like that all you want, I still won't have anything for you to eat. Why are you here without Jon?" 

Ghost cocked his head slightly to the side, not understanding what Anaris was saying. She'd forgotten that he couldn't understand the common tongue. A light pink rose to her cheeks in embarrassment.

"He darted over here right after we entered." A voice said, seemingly out of nowhere. Anaris jumped in surprise and looked over.

"Oh. Jon. You scared me." She chuckled uncomfortably. "He wants me to give him some food, like always. Do you feed him in the mornings?"

"I do." Jon said, shifting his gaze from her over to Ghost.

"He must just like eating then." Anaris continued looking at Jon for a moment or two, and then looked away. She wanted to ask him something, but she wasn't very sure on how she'd word it. 

"Can I ask you something?" She asked, a bit meekly. 

"Go ahead." Jon replied.

"Well, I was wondering...Do you knew of any ravens arriving from Dragonkeep? It'd been awhile since I sent one out to my family, and I was never informed if they sent one back." 

Jon didn't answer. He looked a little bit upset.

"It arrived days ago. I was the one that handed the letter to Sansa, actually. No one told you?" Jon responded. He more serious than usual. 

Anaris remained silent for a moment, the colour draining from her face. She'd been worried sick for no reason. 

"No..." Her voice sounded a bit shaky. "Thank you for telling me. I thought the Queen would inform me but...it seems she had different plans." 

"Don't take it personally. She doesn't tell me or Rickon anything, either."

"Wait...really? I had presumed she'd tell you these things after...the last couple of years."

"I did too..." Jon paused for a moment, and then continued speaking. "She legitimised me."

"You're...a Stark now?" A gentle smile formed on her lips. "That's fantastic. Congratulations." 

"Just as I'd already gotten used to being a bastard, too. I would've refused her, but I couldn't. She'd already written the decree." 

"Oh." Anaris couldn't really understand why a bastard wouldn't want to be legitimised, but then again Jon was a bit strange. If she were a bastard, she'd be glad to be getting legitimised. "Well, we're both moving up on the social ladder." An uncomfortable chuckle left her lips. 

"You're the one that's getting married, aren't you?" He asked, causing Anaris to tense up. She'd forgotten about that. 

"I am. It's an honour to be given a match like this but...if I'm completely honest, I'm a bit nervous about what's to come." Anaris rubbed the back of her neck. "It all just seems...frightening...But you were Lord Commander of the Night's Watch. Calling something like marriage frightening in front of you makes me feel a bit foolish." 

The conversation seemed to have ended, as both of them were silent for a while. She watched as Ghost rolled around in the snow. The direwolf seemed much less intimidating after she fed it something for the first time. She thought it acted a lot like a big dog. 

The cold finally hit her, and wrapped her coat around her tightly and lifted her knees. She didn't want to shiver. Whenever she saw Southrons shiver in the North, she'd always look at them with disdain; now, she felt like a huge hypocrite. 

"Are you cold?" Jon asked. He'd noticed her slowly curling up to a ball. 

"Just a little bit. I didn't feel very well when I woke up. I assume it's because of that." She responded. It was partially true. She didn't wake up in the best of spirits; but she knew she was cold because it was winter, not because of her physical state. 

"You should go inside if you don't feel well." Jon said, a tinge of concern being audible from his tone. 

"I would, but I don't want to stay in the Guest House all day. It makes me feel like a caged bird."

"I could take you to the library, if you want." He offered. "It's warmer there." 

"Hmm...Well, sure. I don't see the harm in it." She smiled and stood up, watching as Ghost got excited. 

Jon nodded and started walking, along with Ghost, without saying a word. Anaris stayed for a moment or two in the same spot, lost in thought, and then quickly caught up with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry! this chapter is a bit late and shorter than the others. there's a convention coming up and a friend gave me a wig for me to style for them, and it took me forever. I most probably won't be updating in the next 7-8 days, because i'll be busy at a convention for four days. 
> 
> season 6's finale was eventful, to say the least. i guessed quite a lot of things incorrectly. 
> 
> hope you guys enjoyed this chapter!


	6. Chapter 6

Winterfell's library looked different from the last time Jon had been there. Perhaps his memory from four years ago simply wasn't the best; but the collection of books seemed to have changed, and grown a bit sparse. 

Ghost walked around the library curiously, before finding a warm spot on the ground and sitting down on it. The hotsprings kept the castle insulated, and no doubt his faithful companion found it much more comfortable than staying outside in the harsh cold. 

Jon walked over to one of the many shelves and examined some of the books. Just as he'd thought, there were, most definitely, different books in the library. The previous collection of rare volumes of literature was gone, most probably destroyed during the Sack of Winterfell, and was replaced by books he could barely recognise. 

"Jon?" He heard Anaris call out to him from behind. She'd been so quiet, Jon had almost forgotten she was there. "Would it be ok if I looked at one of the books here?" 

"Of course. Go ahead." He responded, turning to face her. Anaris looked a bit uncomfortable, simply standing there and staring at him. She seemed to ease up a bit at his response, and gave him a gentle smile as she walked over to a nearby bookshelf. Her hand reached out to a random book, taking it from the shelf gently and holding it with utmost delicacy. 

"I actually enjoy reading. Up until recently, I wasn't allowed into the library at home by my father. The only time I was allowed to have books was when it was required for a lesson." Anaris said as she skimmed through the book. She was quite talkative, especially for a noble lady that he'd met only a couple of days ago; Her speech didn't feel very forced, either. Jon found it a bit refreshing. "Did you come here very often? Before you were sent to the wall, that is."

"Not really. I preferred sword training to reading." Jon responded with a bit of a chuckle. "Why weren't you allowed into the library?" 

"My father didn't like me very much." Anaris admitted, looking a bit reluctant to do so. "It was just his way of restricting me, I suppose. He just wanted me to be quiet and look pretty whenever other lords would visit. I was never very good at being quiet...or being pretty. When I was a little girl I'd always run off into the mines when he wasn't looking and come out absolutely filthy." 

If her father didn't like her because of that, he would've despised Arya. Jon smiled as he reminisced about his younger half-sister. It'd been so long since he'd seen her. Was she still the same Arya he'd known those years ago? Was she still alive?

He was knocked out of his thoughtful trance as he felt Ghost sniffing him curiously. He looked down at him, ruffling the white fur on his head, before looking back up at Anaris. She was staring at him with an observant expression. 

"I've never seen you smile before." She mumbled, before shifting her gaze back over to the book that was in her hands. "You should do it more often. You are a lord now, after all. Lord Jon Stark." Anaris continued speaking as she closed the book and put it back on its proper shelf, "A good lord comes off as amiable and strong...You've got the strong part down already, considering how good of a swordsman people say you are; but you do come as...well...broody to others. Not that it is a bad thing, I am sure you have your reasons to be like that, but people might not understand." Anaris paused for a moment. She really did talk a lot. "Sorry, Jon. I started going off on you on a lecture about the 'proper lord' like I would with my brother. He deserves it though, not you."

Jon was a bit put off when he heard Anaris say 'Lord Jon Stark.' Not because of her, but because he still wasn't used to the title. He wasn't sure if he would ever be. After all those years of being called Lord Snow at the Wall, it simply felt foreign. He didn't want to think of the Wall anymore. 

"Do you think that I'm broody?" He asked in an amused tone. Ghost retreated back to where he had been sitting earlier and laid down. 

"I don't. I like being around you, actually." Anaris said as she took out another book from the shelf. "Thank you for taking me here, by the way. The buildings are much more warmer than the outside." 

"You're welcome." Jon responded, before turning around and going to one of the many tables in the library and sitting down. He called Ghost over, petting his white fur once he'd sat down by his feet. 

Anaris was nicer than he'd expected. Making assumptions about someone before meeting them probably wasn't the best thing to do; but considering all the tales he'd heard of her father, and the fact that their house was so close to the Iron Islands, of which Theon Greyjoy did not give a good impression of, he couldn't help himself. He felt a bit guilty because of it now, though.

"Jon...Do you know if my family will be coming?" Anaris asked whilst reading what she'd picked out.

"I do. They will, although if Sansa tells you herself, you should act surprised. I don't know if I was supposed to tell you or not." He responded, looking over at her observantly. 

"I see..." She said, engrossed in thought. "Thank you for telling me."

Ghost trotted over to her excitedly, as she walked over to the table he was at and sat down as well. A faint smile formed on her lips as she pet him gently. 

The door behind him groaned at its hinges, and he turned his head, glancing to see if it had been the Maester entering with Rickon. He was a bit surprised to see Sansa, instead. Usually, only Rickon and the Maester would be in the library at this hour. 

"Good morning, Jon...and Lady Pravost." Sansa said, before walking off to another part of the room. She seemed to be looking for something, although he couldn't tell if it was a book or something else. 

"Perhaps I should leave...?" Anaris muttered, looking over at Sansa. She seemed to be pretty uneasy. "Good morning, your Grace." She responded, her voice a bit shaky.

"You don't need to. She won't do anything." Jon responded quietly. "What are you reading?" He asked, raising his voice back to its normal volume.

"Oh...This?" Anaris responded, looking back at him and pointing at the book she'd brought over. "It's about dragons and the like. My mother used to tell me that Sea Dragon Point was named after Nagga, a powerful sea dragon that lived during the Age of Heroes...I'm sure it's just a legend, but it always interested me." She chuckled.

"I didn't know we still had books on dragons." He said, feeling Sansa's watchful gaze on him. 

"Well, I guess you know now. This book is really detailed, though. I do not think anyone would need to know this much about dragons, but each to their own." Anaris said, looking down at the book's yellowed pages. "If you like dragons, you should read it. It doesn't have anything about sea dragons, from what I've seen." She closed the book and pushed it to the side, reclining slightly in her chair. 

Footsteps were audible, and Jon looked over as Sansa approached them. 

"This volume mentions sea dragons." The redheaded woman said as she placed a dusty book down on the table. 

"Oh!" Anaris' face lit up in surprise. "Um...Thank you." 

Sansa nodded and walked off. Had she simply overheard their conversation, or was she trying to eavesdrop? 

"I'm feeling a bit hungry...I haven't broken my fast, yet...So, I'm going to take my leave. May I take the book with me to the Guest House?" Anaris said as she stood up and readjusted her coat.

"Go ahead. Do you know where the kitchen is?" Jon asked, standing up as well.

"I do. Farewell, Jon. I hope to see you later." She smiled and picked up the book, before walking out of the library.

"I didn't know you two were so friendly." Sansa said as she walked up to Jon, staring at him with her icy blue eyes. 

He stared back at her. "We're just acquaintances." 

"Yet you took her to the library."

"She was cold."

Sansa nodded and sat down at the table. "We need to talk about...things. Since you are a lord now, after all."

He sat down as well. "Is that why you came here?"

"Yes." 

He reclined himself against his chair in preparation of whatever speech was to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for taking so long! this is my first jon pov chapter, so critiques and impressions would be much appreciated!


	7. Chapter 7

Sansa stared at Jon observantly as she listened to the sounds around her. The library was quiet; the perfect place for discussion.

"I realise that I haven't been informing you of what's been going on recently...I'd like to apologise. We need to trust each other, and while you have been very trusting, I...haven't. From now on, I'll make sure to let you know when something happens." 

It was relieving to get that off of her chest. Ever since Jon had stormed out of her bedchambers, she'd felt rotten; as if she was betraying the little of her family that was left. Hopefully he'd react positively.

"Thank you, but what about Rickon?" Jon asked, a sliver of suspicion seeping from his voice.

"He's only eleven. I don't see the need of letting him know about...these things."

"He's still your brother, Sansa. Rickon deserves to know."

Sansa let out a sigh of defeat. "I suppose I could tell him about important issues, but that is all. Father wouldn't tell us of his lordly business when we were his age. I am not going to overwhelm him. Now...onto other matters...particularly the wedding."

"Telling him something is better than keeping him in the dark. Did something happen with the wedding?"

"No, no. Nothing of the sort. I was just hoping to get your advice on who is to be the bridegroom. I do not have much of a choice, since Arya and Bran have been missing for years, but I'd still like your input."

The crackling of the nearby fireplace was audible as Jon thought for a moment. She'd let this conversation play out in her head multiple times before she'd even entered the library, trying to think of everything that could go wrong and finding a way to fix it; despite that, she was still nervous that her plans wouldn't work out.

"I don't want Rickon to get married. I don't want him to get arranged for a marriage when he just got home, either." He said simply, shifting around in his chair slightly. Sansa could tell that he was a bit uncomfortable. 

"You are also a candidate." Sansa said, looking at his face, noting the shifts in his facial expression.

"I know." Jon responded. His face was impassive, it was making things difficult for her.

"So you'd be willing to marry?" She asked, sounding a bit surprised. 

"Do I have much of a choice?" 

"You do. I can't force you to marry against your own will. If you do get married now, however, it'd be very beneficial. Lords and ladies tend to get married while they're young, at least initially." 

Jon let out a quiet sigh. She knew he wouldn't find the conversation enjoyable, and she didn't want to drag it on any longer. 

"...Thank you for your insight, Jon. I appreciate it." Sansa said as she stood up from her chair. She fixed her dress and flashed him a smile. "We'll speak later."

Jon nodded and she turned around, heading out of the library tower and taking in a deep breath. The scent of the snow was calming, especially since the weather was still tame, and the whiteness of the snow made the castle look pure. The courtyard was quiet and almost empty. As the days grew colder and colder, Sansa noted that less people were working outside. Either the things she had ordered were being completed, or the weather was starting to complicate work. 

Weddings were tricky business, especially for Sansa. Considering all the bad experiences she'd had with getting married, and the ways that they'd changed her, the last thing she'd wanted to do was set up a bad match. She headed to the kitchen, not only feeling a bit peckish, but intending to speak with Anaris. From what she could remember, she'd gone there from the library. It was good a time as ever to discuss the marriage. After all, Sansa hadn't informed her of anything since the day she'd arrive.

The kitchens were a bit empty, other than a couple of servants preparing some food. Anaris was standing off at the side, not even noticing her entrance. She walked over to the noirette, her facial expression stiff and stony.

"Lady Pravost." Sansa said, watching as Anaris jumped in surprise.

"Your Grace..." Anaris bowed, clearing her throat nervously. "I hadn't noticed your presence...My apologies." She seemed to be tense.

"How are you enjoying Winterfell?" She asked, in an attempt to make smalltalk.

"I like it here, your Grace. It's...different from what I'm used to." 

"Hmm." Sansa was in thought. "Your family will be arriving here soon. Do you know who from House Pravost is going to be wed?"

"As far as I know, that would be me, as my sister is too young. It's an honour to be joining your House, your Grace." 

"Ah, I see. Have you gotten a dress prepared? It may be winter, but technically it is a royal wedding. You wouldn't want to look unladylike."

"A dress? No, I haven't. I was hoping my family would bring me something." Anaris chuckled uncomfortably.

The girl looked scared; it reminded Sansa of herself several years back, when she was in King's Landing, except Anaris was not as young and in a completely different situation.

"If your family does not come with something suitable, I could assist you in getting something made." 

"Thank you very much. It's very kind of you to offer, your Grace. I didn't know your brothers were princes."

Sansa nodded. Anaris seemed like the average lady, perhaps a bit more unexperienced with politics than she was used to, but still pretty average. At least she wasn't like most of the ladies at King's Landing.

"Tell me, what do you think of Jon?" She asked, watching as her expression shifted.

"He's very kind. I heard he was legitimised recently."

"He was. I didn't know word got around so quickly." Sansa couldn't help but raise her brow in suspicion. Considering that Anaris had been in Winterfell for only several days, she found it a bit strange that she'd been so open with him, at least from what she'd seen. Not only that, but not many people knew of Jon's legitimisation. "You two seem to be close."

"Oh, I don't know him very well. We talk in the godswood sometimes."

"Yet you were in the library with him."

"He offered to take me because I was uncomfortable outside." She smiled, although it seemed forced.

"How generous of him." 

A servant walked towards the two of them, holding a metal plate with a plain loaf of bread on it.

"M'Lady, the food you had asked for." The servant said, and she watched as Anaris reached out and grabbed the bread with a smile.

"Thank you." Anaris said, giving the servant a nod before looking back at Sansa. "Would you like a piece, your Grace?"

"No, thank you." She responded, watching as the servant walked away. 

"Well, if you don't have anything else to ask, I'll be heading back to the Guest House." 

"Farewell, Lady Pravost." 

Anaris bowed and said her goodbyes, then walked out of the kitchen. Perhaps Sansa should've taken her on her food offer, as her stomach began to growl.

She gazed around, looking at some of the already prepared foods in an attempt at figuring out what she could eat. Foods that caused a mess or required utensils weren't an option for her. What she wanted was a quick snack, nothing more and nothing less. Her eyes set on an apple, and she grabbed it quickly, taking a bite out of it as she walked out of the kitchen. Fresh fruits were getting sparse, so she might as well enjoy it while she still could. 

Just as she'd taken only a couple of steps in the courtyard, one of the guardsmen ran up to her, seemingly out of breath.

"Your Grace, there are people at the North Gate. They bear the banners of House Pravost."

"They're here already? Let us hope the preparations were completed. How many people are there?"

"Six, your Grace. Two young children and four guards."

"Let them in. Get someone to fetch my brothers and Lady Anaris and send them to the gate, as well." 

Sansa walked off before the guard said anything, hearing her footsteps collide with the snow in a soft crunch. She readjusted her coat as she walked, positioning it so it looks orderly. It took a minute or two for her brothers and Anaris to arrive, and within moments the loud creaking of the metal gate's rising was audible.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for being late again! hope you guys enjoyed this chapter.

**Author's Note:**

> this is my first game of thrones fanfic. ill try to update weekly, but it might be a bit difficult! 
> 
> let me know if you have any suggestions or critiques! thanks for reading!!


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